What a night we have just had, friends and neighbors. Our little superhero puppy had a rough day of it, leading to a rough night of it for all concerned. Perhaps I influenced the unfolding of events by focusing too many blog entries of late on topics of disgustingness, but all the grossness in a dog's life seemed to come together yesterday in a perfect storm of emission!
We started the morning in our usual fashion, eating our kibble and taking a walk. However, on our walk, Parker's stool was, well, it wasn't stool, at all. It was as loose and as high-velocity as you can imagine...if you want to imagine (I understand if you don't). This was a cause for concern, and a quandary, of sorts, since neither Monkey nor I could figure out what might be causing such gastric distress. He hadn't eaten anything that we could think of that would cause him trouble. The compost pile was out of reach. He only ingested his normal amount of stick shrapnel, dirt, bugs, and vegetation. As far as we knew, anyway.
Noontime brought further concern, as Parker turned his nose up at his lunch. I thought maybe he was having some teeth issues, so I wet his kibble. He licked up the kibble juice and took a few desultory bites of the moist morsels, but he ate little after all. Our afternoon walk produced more runniness. He was in seemingly good spirits, and he was drinking adequate amounts of water, so we maintained our favorite mental state: cautious optimism.
Dinnertime brought more of the same; however, when Monkey hand fed our intrepid one, he slowly munched up more than half of his dinner from a prone position. More caution than optimism, now, but the occasional wrestle with Ripken brought us a modicum of reassurance.
During the dinnertime hours, I was working the grill, since we were having company over for dinner. I was smoking some ribs. A long process, but the end result was pretty tasty. My first foray into rib-making, but, with patience, it is not so hard. Anyway, our company arrived at about 7pm, and we sat down to eat somewhere around 7:45. It was pretty nasty out--very warm and really humid--not weather that Monkey (or any one else, really), likes, at all. So, we ate inside. As dinner came to a close, Parker, who had, after settling down from our company's arrival, been zonked out next to my chair, got up and walked around the table to one of our guests. Our guest, thinking that Parker wanted some attention, leaned down and went to pet Parker, at which point your friendly neighborhood SpiderDog promptly threw up on the floor under our guest's chair!
The combination of uncharacteristic digestive issues convinced me that this was no matter for cautious optimism. I called the emergency vet. My intention was to ask a few questions, get a few home remedies, and nurse Li'l P back to health. However, the woman on the phone said that diarrhea and vomiting was a cause for concern (ummm...duh), and that I should bring him in for a check. Not being one to shirk my duties as a dog owner, I scooped up my pup and whisked him away to the emergency vet, conveniently located under the grain silo next to the penitentiary ( I shit you not.).
The emergency vet, for those of you who have never been to one, is not too much different than the ER at a hospital. It is generally full of people and dogs who are drunk and have done something stupid. Except for me and Parker, of course. My mind, throughout the evening, was stuck on one question: is this really an emergency? However, I had only the behavior of my dogs and the opinion of some veterinary technician whom I had talked to over the phone, so, I was never sure.
Once at the vets, the tech came in and did some observations of Parker. She looked at his gums, she felt his belly, she took his temperature (a surprise that Parker did NOT relish), she listened to his heart. After that, she told us that the doctor would be by in a sec. Fifteen minutes later, the vet came in and looked at Parker's gums, felt his belly, and listened to his heart. She then told us that Parvo was a remote possibility (even after P had had his 4th vaccination on the 16th), and that she would come back with a list of treatment options.
The tech came back in a few minutes with a laundry list of things that we could do to diagnose the little guy, from a Parvo test to blood work and Xrays (to check for blockages). I looked at the tech. What was wrong with the dog? They couldn't be sure without further tests. And I have to decide what to do? Yes. I was freaked out, a bit. I felt like I was left to play Russian Roulette with my dog's health (or even his life). I decided not to let my concern get the best of me, and I tried to do some deduction. Dog has a temperature. Might be Parvo. Probably not a blockage. Okay, here's what we'll do. I decided to start with the Parvo test, just in case. If that was negative, they were going to give him an anti-emetic to clear up the problems at one end and some antibiotics to clear up the problems at the other end.
The Parvo test was negative, the medicines were administered, and we were on our way home after about ninety minutes (and $170.) at the emergency vet. Monkey had stayed at the house with our gracious company, who stayed until I returned. I felt bad, leaving in the middle of a visit (bad form), but, as fellow dog owners, I think they understood. They stuck around for about another half an hour, or so, and Parker was pretty quiet. He seemed okay. I gave him his first dose of antibiotic (accompanied by his first taste of peanut butter), and we were off to bed, expecting a short road to recovery.
At 4am, that road was found to be closed. Parker woke us both up as he again vomited in his crate. Immediately, we cleaned up and climbed back in the impromptu canine medical emergency vehicle. Back to the grain silo. Back to the penitentiary. Worry was now beginning to regenerate. Clearly, if the anti-emetic was not working, and the antibiotics had no effect, he must have had a blockage somewhere. This was the worst possible news. They took Parker right away, since the place was empty (4am, that is the time to have a pet emergency, apparently), and they took some Xrays. The vet brought the Xrays in and showed us that Parker still had something (most likely food) in his stomach, and that he had a lot of gas in his intestines. His intestinal walls were clearly irritated. What did it all add up to? Well, the Xrays were inconclusive for a blockage, but a barium test would prove it for sure. If the barium passed through, no blockage. No blockage, no surgery. A stronger anti-emetic, a bland diet, antibiotics, and we were good. A blockage, however, was bad. The barium test would take about three hours. We would leave Parker, and they would call when he was ready. Oh, and all this was costing another $480.
Monkey and I went home and got a few more hours of sleep. At around ten, I called the vet. No blockage! Hooray. No vomiting for about six hours! Still, some really nasty diarrhea. We have been home for about two hours. Parker has slept (he probably didn't sleep at all at the vets), and he has voraciously consumed and kept down 1/4 can of bland dog food and his most recent dose of antibiotic. By my estimation, if we can make it to about five o'clock without getting sick, we'll be okay.
But what puzzles me is why it cost me three trips to the vet and $600. to find out that my puppy has an upset stomach?
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